


it tries to find a home

by orphan_account



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: F/F, Love Confessions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jisoo gives a faint smile, and Jennie knows it’s fucking over before she even opens her mouth.“Yes,” says Jisoo, “I like someone.”
Relationships: Jennie Kim/Kim Jisoo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 176





	it tries to find a home

**Author's Note:**

> *clears throat* i just think angsty sapphics should have righ- *hitman takes me out before i can finish*
> 
> title is from hunger by florence + the machine

It starts with a shitty date.

No, backtrack.

It actually started long before, and the string of shitty dates are just along for the ride. Though, Jennie thinks bitterly, it’s not like her self-destructive behavior has waned any in the three years since…

(Since.)

She stands outside the restaurant, in a sundress and tiny cropped cardigan not anywhere near fit for the rapidly cooling evening air, and tries to forget the dirty look her date had given her when she’d declined his increasingly pressing invitations back to his place. 

What-fucking-ever. (She tries not to think about how these dates have been rapidly becoming less about getting laid, and more about proving something to herself—something that not even in her weakest, drunkest moments does she care to acknowledge.)

Jennie shivers and clutches her bag to her chest in a futile attempt to block the chill, and stands near the edge of the curb to hail a cab. The heel of her shoe catches on a loose piece of pavement, and her ankle twists painfully as she gets into the cab, which—great. Great. She gives the driver directions back to the apartment, and looks out the window at the hazy lights moving past. It’s late October, which means it’s been nearly exactly three years since she met Jisoo, and the rest of their friend group by extension.

It’s not late when she gets back to the apartment, considering how her date got cut short, but Chaeyoung and Lisa are in their room anyway, as if they can somehow sense that Jennie needs this time alone with Jisoo. She doesn’t like that they know this, because it makes her feel picked-apart—by Chaeyoung’s wide, guileless gaze, and Lisa’s sharp eyes that catch onto far more than she lets on. 

Jisoo’s sprawled out on the couch, in a position that suggests relaxation but is really not, like she’d been waiting for Jennie to get home. The sharp ridge that had been digging into Jennie’s ribs all evening shifts until it’s digging into her heart, and that’s fine, because it’s a pain that she’s worked hard for. 

“Hey,” Jennie says quietly.

“Hey,” Jisoo says back, and then, “Jendeukie.”

Jennie doesn’t have to say, _Tonight was fucking shit, I hated every second of it. The entire time I wanted to come home. The entire I wanted to come back to—_

Jisoo knows. Jisoo always knows, and she scoots into the side of the couch and opens her arms, and Jennie goes, because amidst all the bad decisions and subsequent self-loathing, this is something she has tentatively allowed herself. She burrows into Jisoo’s side so hard it’s probably uncomfortable for her, but Jisoo doesn’t complain. Instead, she just brings one hand up to brush the bangs out of Jennie’s face. 

“Your hair looks pretty,” she says. 

“Yours does too,” Jennie whispers, and bats at Jisoo’s arm when she gives a little scoff. Jennie wasn’t lying. Jisoo’s hair is unbrushed and pulled into a haphazard bun, but little strands fall out around her face, softening her already-soft features. It’s a contrast to Jennie’s carefully curled hair and sharp eyeliner, which she had done out of defense more than anything; sharp and severe to protect the soft, nagging bits inside. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Jisoo asks.

Jennie doesn’t ask what she means by _it:_ the horrible date tonight? All the horrible dates before it? Jennie’s fucked-up sense of—of _obligation?_ Jisoo’s kindness that Jennie doesn’t deserve? The ugly, mocking thing inside of Jennie that the dates were supposed to solve, but only made worse? 

“Not really,” says Jennie. 

Jisoo just hums and holds her tighter, and Jennie viciously pushes down the sharp, rearing thing inside of her. Her best friend is holding her after a bad date with a douchebag that wasn’t even worth a second glance, and later—tomorrow, maybe—she, along with Chaeyoung and Lisa, will commiserate with Jennie about how men aren’t worth the trouble anyway, and they will open a bottle of wine and get shitfaced despite midterms being around the corner. It’s _fine._ Jennie will do everything to make sure it’s fine. 

After what could be minutes, could be hours, could be the entire three-year stretch they’ve known each other, Jisoo speaks. “Jendeukie, you go on all these terrible dates, but do you actually like any of them?” 

Jennie feels something catch in her chest. “I dunno,” she says, as the feeling of discomfort grows stronger. Jisoo’s never brought up the dates in such a direct way, and Jennie is used to skirting around the topic when she comes home, curling up on the couch or, on one particularly memorable and excruciating occasion, Jisoo’s bed, after Jennie had been unable to hold all the ugliness in. 

“Well,” Jisoo tries again, “do you like anyone? In general, I mean.”

Jennie suddenly feels like she can’t fucking breathe, and she has to fight down the encroaching panic as Jisoo turns and stares at her, like she’s _expecting_ Jennie to say something. Jisoo isn’t an unkind person. She would understand, if Jennie told her. She would reach up and brush a strand of hair out of Jennie’s face, and say, with infinite gentleness, _I’m sorry, Jendeukie,_ and then her hand would drop, and Jennie would feel shattered to bits, and that would be that. 

“No,” Jennie croaks out, and ignores her running internal mantra of _coward, coward, coward._ And then, because she is a masochist, “Do you like anyone, unnie?”

Jisoo gives a faint smile, and Jennie knows it’s fucking over before she even opens her mouth. 

“Yes,” says Jisoo, “I like someone.”

Jennie gives a little laugh that sounds weak to her own ears, and says, “I’m glad, unnie.” _I hope whoever it is makes you happy like you deserve to be, I hope they’re kind and gentle to match you, I hope they’re better than anything I could give._

“Mm-hm,” says Jisoo, “but I’m afraid they don’t like me back.”

Jennie’s head snaps up. “Don’t...like you back?” Even the notion is preposterous, not liking Jisoo, when Jennie’s spent the last three years trying to live with something that will never come to light. When she’s spent the last three years aching at every brush of Jisoo’s pinky on her skin, every coy little smile, every _Jendeukie_ said with a fondness that doesn’t quite match up with the thing inside of Jennie. Whoever this asshole is—the asshole that _doesn’t like Jisoo back—_ Jennie wants to snarl, _You have no fucking idea what you have._

Jennie settles on swallowing up the hot, wanting lump in her throat and saying, “I’ll beat them up for you, unnie.” She’s only half-joking. 

Jisoo smiles, and Jennie watches the pull of her perfect cupid’s bow, the crinkle in the corners of her eyes, the soft, soft way she’s staring at Jennie that makes Jennie want to say, _Stop, you don’t know what you’re doing, please don’t look at me like that when I’m a wreck like this._ And isn’t that how it’s always been? Jennie pathetically hanging on to every glance, every glimpse of a smile, when Jisoo’s just trying to be a nice fucking person?

 _You’re such a bitch, Jennie,_ an old boyfriend had told her when they’d broken up. _Would it have killed you to give more of a shit?_ Back then, Jennie had been too angry and scared to say anything. Now, she’s realized that she does give a shit. Only it’s about the wrong person. Or the right person, depending on what Jennie’s idiot brain decides to hit her with that day. After that particular breakup, which fell somewhere in the middle of Jennie’s Spectacular and Never Ending Chain of Breakups as dubbed by Lisa, Chaeyoung had pulled her aside and said, with uncharacteristic seriousness, _You can’t keep doing this, Jennie._

Jennie had laughed and brushed it off, even as her chest echoed hollowly with the absence of grief, and said, _What do you mean, Chaeng? I’m doing just great._

Chaeyoung had given Jennie one of her sad, soulful looks, and Jennie had been hit with the ice-water realization that she knew, and if Chaeyoung knew, there was no way that Jisoo—clever, perceptive Jisoo—didn’t. Jisoo’s just too nice to bring it up, and Jennie is just stuck in a forever limbo of shitty date after shitty date, with the added bonus of going home after each one and crying into the shoulder of her best friend who will never love her back. 

Which is—fucking great. Jennie has dealt with it for three years, and those three years have dulled the sharp jabs down into bruising aches. She’s _fine._

Jennie’s snapped out of her rapidly-growing spiral of angst when Jisoo flicks her on the forehead, and Jennie rears back, surprised. The last time Jisoo had done that was when a date had gone so badly Jennie had climbed into Jisoo’s bed at 3 a.m., eyeliner smudged to hell from crying and trying to stop the crying. Jisoo had held her while she sobbed, uncaring of Jennie’s running makeup smearing disgustingly onto her shirt and her collarbones. 

When Jennie had finally stopped crying, so wrung-out she didn’t ever think she could ever produce another tear again (she was wrong, of course), Jisoo had cupped her cheeks between her palms, and reached up to flick her forehead. And it was that tiny, tiny action, more than anything, that made Jennie feel better, the gentle assurance that Jisoo wouldn’t think any differently of her no matter how much of a wreck she was. 

Now, Jennie stares at Jisoo and thinks, with her heart thudding a vicious beat, _This is too much, I can’t—_

Carefully, like she’s extricating herself from a tangled net, Jennie slips out of Jisoo’s arms, and makes to stand up and go to their bedroom, where she can lick her wounds without the distraction of Jisoo’s gentle eyes or gentle hands. 

Before she can step away, she feels something around her wrist. She looks down and it’s Jisoo’s hand, and she wants to cry all over again. Jisoo’s grip around her wrist isn’t there to keep her from running; it’s there as a gentle request to stay. Jennie stays, because she’s never been good at telling Jisoo no. 

“You know why you can’t beat up that person?” Jisoo asks. Her voice is hushed. Jennie feels caught.

Jennie gives a minute shake of her head, an almost imperceptible movement. 

Jisoo’s looking at her so earnestly, and Jennie, around the pain in her chest, thinks, _oh, god._

“It’s because that person is you,” another forehead flick, “silly Jendeukie.”

And Jennie feels her eyes go wide, every muscle in her body seizing up, waiting for the punchline, waiting for the inevitable heartbreak. But Jisoo isn’t a cruel person, she wouldn’t—

“What,” she rasps. “Unnie, don’t joke about that, please—” 

She’s just noticing that Jisoo seems _nervous,_ when she’s the bravest person Jennie knows. Jisoo doesn’t get nervous about anything. 

Jisoo gives a shaky smile. “Not joking. I would never joke about that.”

Jennie is vaguely aware of the fact that she’s shaking, trembling apart at this new and staggering realization. “Since when,” she croaks out, because there’s no way, there’s _no fucking way,_ not when she’s been holding onto this so hard, and for so long. 

Jisoo’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “Since freshman year. I’ve held onto this for a long time, Jendeukie.” 

And Jennie feels the world stutter. Stop. Pick up again. Like she hasn’t just been subjected to the most soul-altering information of her _life._

And Jennie—Jennie who’s been so scared to hope, who’s been clutching onto these feelings like a lifeline, who never thought, not in a million years, not even when everything collapses into dust, says, “I like you, Jisoo.”

It’s not like the casual _I like you_ s Jennie’s thrown around, in defiance against the tangled mess of feelings in her chest. It’s nothing like that at all, and she can see the exact moment Jisoo realizes that, realizes Jennie likes— _loves—_ her.

Jisoo’s smile is aching. Not the dull, painful ache Jennie’s gotten used to—no, this is the kind of warm, burning ache you get when you drink good whiskey, the kind that heats you up all syrupy inside. “Yeah?” she says, like she can’t believe it. _Why wouldn’t you believe it,_ Jennie wants to ask. _How could you possibly think that I don’t love you._

“Yeah,” Jennie whispers back instead, choking down the painful lump of unspoken things still lodged in her throat. “Yeah,” she says again, and then, “kiss me,” because she can. She can ask Jisoo to kiss her now. 

Jisoo’s palm is warm even though the apartment is nearly freezing, and Jennie leans into the welcome heat, like a sunflower tilting up toward the sky. The kiss is so good it makes Jennie’s stomach hurt, and she gets her hand on Jisoo’s jaw so she can angle their mouths together deeper, desperate. 

She pulls back with a gasp, and says against Jisoo’s mouth, “I-I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” It’s a simple admission, but it feels pulled from the deepest parts of her. 

Instead of answering, Jisoo just leans down and captures her mouth again, unheeding of Jennie’s lipstick, which is probably getting smudged around her mouth, messy and wonderful. This time, Jisoo pulls back, and Jennie can see the imprint of her own lipstick on Jisoo’s mouth, smears of it catching on her cupid’s bow. Jennie leans in and kisses it, because she’s thought about that cupid’s bow, about that mouth, far more than she’d ever admit to herself. _You like me? You like me?_ Jennie gasps out against Jisoo’s mouth, again and again, because it doesn’t feel real. 

_I do, I do,_ Jisoo assures, like an admission of her own, or like a prayer. 

_This is what it’s like to be kissed by Kim Jisoo,_ Jennie thinks in a daze, as Jisoo starts working her way down Jennie’s jaw, to her neck. _This is what it’s like to have her fingers in your hair. This is what it’s like to want and be wanted in return._

When Jisoo meets her eyes again, after kisses that have lasted minutes, or hours, or the entire three-year stretch they’ve known each other, Jennie feels, for the first time in years and years, lighter than air. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> yeahhh :"D i just think girls r neat


End file.
